


goosebumps by r l stine

by skelltan



Category: Original Work
Genre: Allegory, Allusions to Suicide, Anxiety, Body Dysphoria, Depression, Fantasy, Gender Dysphoria, Haunting, Inspired by Real Events, Other, Psychological Horror, Supernatural - Freeform, allusions to the current state of the real world and politics, ghost - Freeform, haunted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-19 02:50:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22170667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skelltan/pseuds/skelltan
Summary: a short story about my day and how i felt, though through a fictional lens





	goosebumps by r l stine

This is not a horror story. At least, not one of an extranormal being terrorising a small town for generations, or of a killer loose in the woods. It is a personal tale. Unless one is fully contained, anything that affects them will, no doubt, cause them to act in ways that will effect others. They may not see the spectre, but its presence is felt.

I don’t know when he came here. All I know is I feel him every day, clawing at me in ways inherently insignificant, yet which set off reactions that can cause my downfall. He is a trickster, a tormentor. He doesn’t want my pain, or for me to die. He wants my suffering.

Either he terrorises me, or we have some kind of bond. Rarely a day goes by without his presence. He is always here, watching. Acting. In a way, I am a toy, the only toy he has ever had. If I were gone, his entertainment would be, so I exist, feeling his torment.

I was accomplishing a task for a friend today. Everything was normal, stagnant. The world was dying, and I could feel it, yet it was the status quo. One day I planned on saving it, but that wasn’t today. So I carried on, living my life, waiting for the day of change, living in the familiar hellscape. 

It was an irrelevant fact, but the point is the day was normal as normal got. Though, it is worth noting, this fact was one that he tried to use to tease me. Everyone was unsure of the future. If there would BE a future. He tempts me to death at times. Or tells me that a revolution will never come, or if it does, that it will fail. But that’s a story for another day.

There were other people in the area. Always are. It was a vulnerable position I put myself in whether I realised it or not. As I said, he likes to tease, to torment, and so having it be a show, on a stage with an audience, pleased him greatly.

Passed many faces. He made me think of my image. How I am not how I want to be, how I do not belong. Seeing happy people, thinking of my own state most days. Thinking of how some may be friends in another life, but in this life, loneliness crushes me day after day and is another setting he so thoroughly loves.

I went to do the task, but a vital component was missing. The task couldn’t be complete. It wasn’t my fault, and was a minor issue. Yet, he preyed on it. I came all this way to come short. And so I looked in a mirror, as I always do when out, to see how I looked. To boost my confidence, to say, yes, I belong here. Yet, this time, it did not help me. My hair. Something so small, yet it ruined my whole image, or he made me think so. 

That was enough to set things into motion. Again, as I passed people, the thoughts magnified. I had wanted to do something for myself as I was here, as a bonus, yet I knew it would take confidence. And the confidence had been completely shattered.

And I can’t keep track of when, but he made a rather gruesome attack. He tried pulling me into his realm. And there I sat, halfway between. Everything was normal, but I was not. I was an anomaly. I shifted. I changed. I want to change, but it was not a positive change, it was a never-ending change, as my body continued to warp without any stoppage. The wind became heavy upon me. I became groggy. I could not exist here if he pulled me in any further. He knew that, and used it to torment me as I existed between planes.

Writing this, I wanted you to know how I felt, but I cannot describe it. How can one accurately describe existence between two planes? As hard as I try I feel my words are futile. Being stretched endlessly. Any words that come into my head, I reject – perhaps he doesn’t want me to shine a light on his existence, I hope you can accept this. I tried.  
And so, when the deed was done, I walked home, again in between two planes. I felt as I was being watched at times. I heard music come from nowhere. It had somehow been activated despite being in my pocket. I can’t tell what happened here. But regardless, I made it to the door. Opened it. Forgot there was another door. I was exhausted, I lounged on the wooden door as I tried to find the key to open it.

I collapsed inside. Here, I was safe. This is the only place for my guaranteed safety, my sanctuary, and here I was. And eventually, I came to write this. At first, I don’t know why he would allow it, but I know exactly why. While, yes, this is my sanctuary, it still isn’t safe. It is lonely and it is cold. He wants me to write this because it takes effort, and I like to be rewarded for my effort. But he knows I won’t be. That no one will read this. And so, my torment continues.


End file.
